


Front-Row Seat

by Linsky



Series: Benncestfest [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Barebacking, Come play, Established Relationship, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Orgasm Delay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Sibling Incest, Threesome - M/M/M, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-11 20:58:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7069861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linsky/pseuds/Linsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyler shifts in his seat. “Jordie told you to, um…”</p>
<p>Jamie’s fingers fiddle with the fabric on the arm of the couch. “To watch this. And.” Jamie’s voice drops a little. “Not to touch myself.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Front-Row Seat

**Author's Note:**

> It's my AO3versary — one year to the day since I started posting [my first ever fic here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4080934/chapters/9191197)! Celebrating by giving you guys some Jamie/Jordie/Tyler that you may or may not want. This picks up not too long after the end of [The Peaceful Quiet You Create for Me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5466725). I may add something more emotionally substantive to this 'verse at some point, but in the meantime, hope you enjoy the porny goodness. :)
> 
> (Celebrate on [Tumblr](http://linskywords.tumblr.com/) with me if you'd like!)

Tyler doesn’t notice anything when Jamie first sits down on the touch. He’s busy texting life updates to Candace, which is tricky because he wants to get across the thing where he’s happy without sounding _too_ happy or letting slip anything like _and it’s because I’m secretly dating not one but two of my teammates and oh did I mention they’re brothers?_ Really, really not the kind of thing you want to tell your sister over text message.

Or ever. Tyler’s still considering the idea of ever.

He thinks he’s got the tone down and is going to ask Jamie, because Jamie is smart and knows things like when someone’s going to think five emojis in a row is overcompensating. He gets as far as, “Hey, Jamie, can you…” when he looks up and sees that Jamie’s face is kind of…pink.

Not pink all over. Not like when he works out sometimes and comes back all sweaty with his skin all hot so that Tyler wants to get his tongue on him and taste. This is just a flush along his cheekbones, like he gets sometimes in the middle of sex, and maybe Tyler’s conditioned, or something, because as soon as he sees it his stomach gets a little fluttery.

He reaches out a leg and pokes Jamie in the arm. “Hey. You okay?”

Jamie’s eyes are fixed on the TV screen, but he nods. “Yeah. I’m good.”

His voice is low and a little bit rough, and Tyler must be really messed up because that turns him on a little, too. Or maybe it’s just that pretty much everything about Jamie turns him on these days.

There’s definitely something weird going on, though. Jamie looks wound up in a way he only usually gets before they go on the ice, and they don’t have a game until tomorrow night. Tyler runs his eyes over Jamie’s body, and—oh. Jamie’s _hard._

Tyler’s eyes fix on the bulge immediately. Jamie’s just wearing sweatpants, and his cock is pushing them out, like way out. Tyler can see, like…the whole length of it. This isn’t casual oops-popped-a-semi hard. This is all the way hard, sex hard, Tyler’s-mouth-is-dry-from-the-sight-of-it hard.

Tyler darts his eyes over to check the TV. It’s showing a nature documentary, something about coral reefs. Maybe Jamie gets turned on by fish? But Tyler feels like he would probably know that already.

Jamie’s not touching himself or anything. He’s sitting like he should be relaxed, hands at his sides, but his eyes are fixed on the TV and his pants are tented and there’s that blush, high on his cheeks.

Tyler swallows. “Um, is there…uh…what’s up?”

Jamie colors a little more. He mumbles something under his breath.

“Sorry?” Tyler says.

Jamie clears his throat. “Jordie told me to,” he says, barely audible.

Tyler sucks in a breath. He’s not sure what it means—not sure what game is being played here—but he knows that it’s _hot._

Jamie’s eyes are still fixed on the TV. He’s breathing maybe a little more heavily than usual, and that telltale cock is still jutting out at the front of his sweatpants.

Tyler shifts in his seat. “Jordie told you to, um…”

Jamie’s fingers fiddle with the fabric on the arm of the couch. “To watch this. And.” Jamie’s voice drops a little. “Not to touch myself.”

Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Now Tyler’s hard, too. Maybe Jamie can tell, even though he’s not taking his eyes off the TV, because his breathing picks up a little. Tyler’s still not sure exactly what’s going on, but he can picture it: the way Jordie would have leaned in near Jamie’s ear, his voice rumbling as he told Jamie what to do. Maybe he gave Jamie a starting stroke, just to make it a challenge. Maybe…

If he keeps up like this, Tyler’s the one who’s going to need to touch himself. He shifts again, tries to get his cock into a better position. “Does he, uh—does he do this a lot?”

Jamie’s cheeks are so red that Tyler wants to touch them, to feel the heat they’re giving off. Test it with his tongue. “He usually doesn’t add the second part. But, uh.” He bites his lip, cuts himself off.

Tyler stares at the spot where Jamie’s teeth are cutting into his lip. “But what?”

Jamie lets his lip go, breathes out a gust of air. “You’re not usually here,” he says.

“Fuck,” Tyler whispers. He can feel his pulse, right in the head of his cock. His fingers are clenching and unclenching on the knees of his sweatpants. Jamie’s sitting there, breathing hard, and his cock must be throbbing, too, just because Tyler’s here, watching this. Tyler feels the heat pooling in his groin, making his balls ache.

Well. Jordie didn’t say anything about _Tyler_ not touching himself.

He presses his palm against the bulge in the front of his sweatpants and sighs at the relief. “Fuck,” he says again, and he hears Jamie’s little gasp. He feels kind of shameless, touching himself here in front of Jamie like this, when they aren’t even having sex—but he can see the way Jamie’s gone tenser, and that makes it so hot. Makes his grip go harder through his sweats. 

Tyler slips his hand under his sweats, and that’s better. Gets his hand around the heat of his shaft and strokes. Lets his head thunk back. He maybe moans a little, like he would if he were showing off for someone, and he doesn’t miss the way Jamie’s lips press together and his throat bobs as he swallows.

God. Jamie. Tyler lets his eye rake over his shoulders, his arms, the bulge of his biceps. He’s so _strong._ Tyler knows his own body is a good one—he’s fit, he’s cut, he works hard to stay that way—but a body like Jamie’s just makes the bottom fall out of his gut every time. He remembers staring, that first day in the Dallas airport, trying to cover it up so that Jamie and Jordie wouldn’t notice.

Now he can look. He can look at the expanse of Jamie’s chest and stroke his hand up and down his cock. Jamie’s fingers are clenched on the arm of the couch; his mouth has fallen open a little bit, and he’s breathing through it, fast and light.

Tyler’s own breath is loud in his ears. He imagines how Jamie’s cock must feel, how much it’s straining against the fabric of the sweatpants. How much he must be dying to have his hand around it. He circles the head of his cock, collects the burst of precome, spreads it down the shaft with a moan.

Jamie’s breath catches. “Tyler…” he says.

Tyler’s hand speeds up on his cock. “Yeah?” he asks, voice hoarse.

Jamie shifts. His gaze is still on the TV, but his brow is furrowed, like this is painful. “Tyler…”

A footstep behind them makes them both jump. Jordie.

His hands slide onto Tyler’s shoulders. “Is he being good?” he asks, his breath a puff of heat against Tyler’s ear.

“Y-yeah,” Tyler gasps. Jordie’s breath sends tingles all up and down his spine.

“I can see that.” Jordie’s voice is a murmur. “So good for me, Jame.”

Jamie’s eyelashes flutter at Jordie’s words. Jordie’s hands slide down from Tyler’s shoulders to his chest, flicking his nipples and then pressing on them so that Tyler gasps. “You want to be good for me, too?” Jordie asks him.

Tyler nods frantically. Jordie’s fingers roll his nipples into tight little nubs. The feeling crackles down to his cock, and he tightens his hand.

“Take your hand off your cock,” Jordie says.

Tyler does, immediately. He can feel his thighs tightening at the idea that maybe Jordie won’t let him come, either. That he’ll have to keep simmering in this arousal. It licks hotter up into his belly.

Jordie comes around to the front of the couch, down on his knees, and slides his hands up Tyler’s thighs. He leaves them there, thumbs pressing in just inches from Tyler’s cock, and feathers his other fingers against the skin a little. “You’re pretty turned on, huh?” he asks in a low voice.

Tyler nods mutely. His whole mouth is full of saliva.

“You like knowing that I gave Jamie orders,” Jordie says. His hands slide just a little closer to where Tyler’s cock is stretching out his sweats, making a damp spot. “You like knowing how hot it gets him, sitting here on my orders with you watching him.”

Tyler’s chest is heaving. He feels like his heart is battering to get out.

Jordie surges up and gets his mouth on one of Tyler’s nipples. He licks it through the cloth of his t-shirt, and then he bites it, worrying the hard nub. “Oh, God,” Tyler says, and he claps his hand to the back of Jordie’s head, holding him there for the little shocks it’s sending down to his cock. 

Jordie pulls back, leaving just the tip of his tongue on the nipple through the sodden cloth. He replaces it with a finger, nail scraping lightly. Tyler whines. “Shall we show him how much you like it?” Jordie asks.

Tyler’s whole body is throbbing. “Yes, _please.”_

Jordie gets his hands in the waistband of Tyler’s sweats and eases them down. Tyler tries to help, but his nerves are shooting wildly, and he can only manage to lift himself up enough for Jordie to get them over his ass. His cock slaps against his stomach as soon as it pops free.

“Yeah, that looks good.” Jordie’s breath skates over the head of his cock and makes Tyler shiver all over. Then he takes the head in his mouth.

Tyler almost swallows his tongue. _Heat_ and _wet_ and, oh God, Jordie’s sucking now. Tyler makes a strangled sound.

Jordie lets his mouth pop off. He looks up at Tyler, eyes dark, and trails the tip of his tongue just once, slow, up along the slit. Then he slides his mouth back down.

Tyler’s straining desperately for air. His balls are so, so full, and he can feel his thighs quivering under Jordie’s hands. Jordie runs the flat of his tongue along the vein under the head, and Tyler lets out a moan. He gets an answering moan—but not from Jordie. From Jamie, at the end of the couch.

Tyler flicks his eyes over to him. Jamie’s sitting rigidly, fingers digging into the couch, and his eyes are still on the TV, but they’re wide, like maybe he’s going a little bit crazy. His cock is leaving a wet spot on his tented pants. It sends an extra zing up Tyler’s spine, and his next moan is strangled.

“Yeah, that’s it, tell me how you like it,” Jordie says, lips brushing against his crown.

“It’s—oh, God, Jordie, your mouth,” Tyler babbles. “I can’t, it’s. It’s so hot, and so good, I feel like I’m—argh.” He cuts off, garbled, as Jordie slides his cock farther down his throat.

Jordie hums, and that sends the pleasure higher. He’s making slurping sounds as he moves up and down Tyler’s cock, and Tyler knows Jamie can hear them. Jamie must be so hard, aching to be touched. Touched, the way Jordie’s lips are sliding along Tyler’s cock, the way his tongue is flicking at the head. Tyler gasps for air.

He’s melting. He’s not going to be able to hang on much longer, and Jamie—Jamie’s going to hear him come, won’t be able to see, but he’ll want to. He’ll want to taste it. Tyler’s stomach lurches.

Jordie pulls off, uses his hand around the spit-slick shaft. “Yeah, come on,” he says, voice raspy from Tyler’s cock pressing into his throat. “Show Jamie how pretty you can come.” He puts his mouth back on Tyler’s dick, sucks hard, hard, _hard_ at the head, then pulls off, hand pumping, and Tyler—

Tyler’s shooting into his open mouth, his own mouth gaping desperately as he tenses up and rides the wave of pleasure, Jordie’s hand wringing it out of him, Jordie’s eyes hot on him, Jordie’s mouth catching—

“Oh my fucking god,” Tyler says, collapsing weakly against the back of the couch. Jordie’s still on his knees, squeezing gently for the aftershocks. There’s a little drop of come on his lips. Tyler wants to lick it off.

“Good?” Jordie says.

“Yeah,” Tyler breathes. He looks over at Jamie and sees his teeth sunk into his lip, biting hard, the skin white around the bite marks. His chest is heaving with each breath.

Jordie presses a kiss to Tyler’s thigh. To Tyler’s balls. Tyler shivers, sensitive.

“Bet you’re kind of loose now,” Jordie says. “Bet you’d open up nice and easy.”

Tyler’s breath catches. Jordie’s eyes are dark, wicked. “Y-yeah,” he says. “I, um…”

Jordie pulls a tube of lube out of his pocket. Tyler’s stomach jolts.

“You wanna ride me?” Jordie asks, leaning in close so that his breath gusts over Tyler’s lips. It smells like fresh come. Tyler’s come. Tyler’s eyes sink shut, and he nods.

Jordie stands up and pulls his shirt over his head. He’s slow about it, and about his belt buckle. Tyler knows it’s not for him—or not entirely for him. Jordie’s close to the line of sight to the TV. He knows Jamie can see him, even if he’s still being good. Knows Jamie will be wound even tighter by those glimpses of skin.

It’s not only for Tyler, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like watching it. Jordie eases his jeans down over the cut of his hips, and Tyler’s eyes focus on the point where his trail of hair disappears into his briefs. His cock is bulging out of them, and when he slides them down, it stands up, thick and swollen. Tyler just came, but his skin goes extra shivery anyway.

Jordie pulls Tyler up and takes his place on the couch. Tyler strips his own shirt over his head. He feels a little dreamlike: the languor of his orgasm is making everything seem drifty and slow, even the heat that’s still banked in his gut. Jordie slides Tyler’s sweatpants all the way down and lets his hands skim against his outer thighs in the process. Then he pulls Tyler down to straddle his lap and into a kiss.

Jordie’s mouth and Jamie’s are different. Jordie kisses rougher, slower, while Jamie is more eager about it, even though Tyler would bet they’ve had almost the same number of kisses in their lives. Since they’ve spent most of their time kissing only each other. It sends a thrill through him when he thinks about it—being part of this thing that’s been between them forever.

Jordie’s kisses right now are rough and claiming, and it’s so easy for Tyler to get lost in it. Jordie sweeps his mind away with kisses until Tyler feels the press of a lube-slick finger against his ass.

It makes him moan. He loves having something in his ass. Used to press his own fingers into it, when there was no one else, sometimes after the girl he’d hooked up with had left for the night, and he’d pretend there was a cock driving into him the way his had just driven into her. He never thought it was something he’d actually get, not in a real way. Now—now there’s another cock, Jordie’s, hard against his own oversensitive one, and Tyler trembles at the thought of it inside of him.

Just a finger, first. He’s loose, like Jordie said he’d be, his orgasm making all his muscles relax. His nerves are still firing a bit, little bursts as Jordie’s fingers tug at his rim, and his stomach is full of warm glow. Jordie’s finger slides easily in.

“Unf,” he says. Jordie’s hand soothes up his back. There’s no pain to soothe away, but being fingered always gives him a little bite of desperation, and Tyler’s glad of the gentle pressure. _Just wait,_ the hand says to him. _Just wait, and you’ll get what you need._

“So good, Ty,” Jordie whispers. “You’re so good at taking it.”

Tyler is good at taking it. His eyelids drift closed as Jordie’s finger slides in and out, in and out, deeper. “More,” he whispers.

“Yeah.” Jordie slides another finger in alongside it. “I bet Jamie’s proud of how good you are at this.”

He hits Tyler’s prostate when he says it, and Tyler cries out in surprise and pleasure. Jordie digs in, and Tyler arches and shoves against his fingers for more. _Proud…Jamie’s proud…_

“Look at you, so gorgeous,” Jordie says. “I bet Jamie wishes you were sitting on his lap right now.”

Tyler lets his head roll to the side while he squirms on Jordie’s fingers. Jamie’s panting like he’s just off a double shift, and his hands are clenching and unclenching. His eyes are still on the TV, but they’re glazed with lust, eyelids at half-mast.

“Maybe he’ll get that, too, if he keeps being good,” Jordie says.

Tyler whines. Jordie has three fingers inside him now, pressing at his prostate, and his other hand is on Tyler’s stomach. Kneading it, making the pressure inside him more intense. Tyler’s cock isn’t hard again yet, but he feels it trying—can tell that it’s going to be, in just a few minutes. Feels the hot thrum of blood.

“You want my cock, don’t you?” Jordie asks.

Tyler nods. He clenches his hole around Jordie’s fingers, and Jordie slides them deeper in.

“Can you slick me up?” Jordie asks.

Tyler fumbles for the lube. They graduated from condoms when Tyler got himself tested, and that means he gets to rub lube straight onto the skin of Jordie’s cock. He loves the feel of it in his hand, and he slides his thumb up to the top to rub at the slit.

Jordie hisses. “Sh, no, babe,” he says. “You’ve gotta wait, can’t let me come yet.”

Tyler moans. He’s so—raw, every nerve overexposed from being revved up like this so soon after coming. From Jamie’s presence, right next to them and so painfully and obviously turned on. From all of Jordie’s skin against him.

“Fuck me,” he mumbles, hazy with it, and he can hear Jamie’s breath catch.

Jordie’s pupils are wide. “Yeah, yes,” he says, a low rumble. “Gonna give you my cock.”

He stretches Tyler out for another moment—scissors his fingers against the walls of his hole as Tyler pants against him. Then he pulls his fingers out, gets Tyler to lift up, and starts feeding his cock into his hole.

Tyler moans loudly as Jordie’s head stretches him. It’s much more than three fingers, and the little bite of pain makes his heart thump and his cock stir. He can feel his own cock filling with blood as Jordie’s slides into his ass. He scrabbles at Jordie’s arms at the feeling: like he’s full, right up to the top of his head, full and lost. Entirely under Jordie’s hands.

“Yeah, you’re so good,” Jordie murmurs, and he lifts Tyler a little and snaps his hips up to thrust in.

Tyler gasps out all his air and lets his head fall forward onto Jordie’s shoulder. He wants that feeling again, and he rolls his own hips, helping Jordie to get deeper, getting that heart-splitting sensation of being speared open. His own cock is bouncing against Jordie’s abs, no friction to speak of, but it doesn’t matter for how hard he is. It’s white-hot: Jordie’s cock plunging into him, his hands on Tyler’s hips hard enough to bruise, and Jamie—Jamie—

“You think he’s watching?” Jordie asks Tyler. “It’s okay if he does, as long as he doesn’t touch himself. Want him to see me driving into you—want him to see how hungry you are for my cock—”

Tyler wants to turn and see, to see if Jamie’s looking at them, but he doesn’t think have that kind of control over his body right now. It’s all he can do to drop his head and chase after Jordie’s cock. It’s there in his head, though: how Jamie must be looking at the curve of their bodies, at the quick thrusts of Jordie pushing into him, at the way Tyler surges into it. How badly Jamie must want his own cock to be the one inside Tyler.

Jordie angles him a little differently, and now his cock is slamming against Tyler’s prostate with every thrust. Tyler tips his head back and moans. He clenches down, working over Jordie’s cock, trying for more of that scraping friction, and Jordie’s breath leaves him like he’s been punched. “Oh, fuck, Tyler,” he says. “You’re so—”

Tyler gropes for his arms again and moves himself faster. He just came not that long ago, and there isn’t even a hand on him, but he still feels himself right on the edge. He’s leaking like a tap all over Jordie’s abs. He lets his mouth fall open and clenches down again.

“Jesus,” Jordie says. “Ty—I can’t—” And then there’s a broken gasp from Jamie, and Jordie loses it, hips pistoning up into Tyler and driving the head of his cock into his prostate over—and over—and over—

Jordie’s come bursts hot and wet inside him. Tyler can feel himself following, losing his grip on sanity, but Jordie’s hand clamps down at the base of his cock.

“Don’t come yet,” he growls. “You’re gonna come on Jamie.”

Tyler keens. His cock gives a violent spasm, trying to come and failing in Jordie’s tight grip. “Please,” he says. He feels like—if he doesn’t come right now…

Jordie nudges his head to the side. “Just look at him,” he murmurs.

Tyler blinks. Jamie looks—Jamie looks—

_Wrecked._ His hands are still splayed against the couch, nowhere near his crotch, but his skin is slick with sweat and his hair is falling forward over his eyes. He’s gasping for air, mouth open and kind of _working,_ tongue flicking out and lips moving like he’s desperate for something to latch onto. The wet spot on his sweatpants has grown. His eyes are wide and wild, and they find their way to Tyler’s and lock there.

“Go to him,” Jordie murmurs, and Tyler scrambles up off his lap and does.

It takes a second for Jamie to react, like he’s not sure he’s allowed to move. Then he does, grabbing Tyler and pulling him in the rest of way, seizing Tyler mouth and _kissing,_ kissing like he’s _dying,_ fuck. His hands are everywhere, Tyler’s ass, his shoulders, the back of his head, and then he’s tipping them onto the couch—Jordie isn’t there anymore—tipping them and tearing off his own clothes, still kissing Tyler everywhere he can reach.

“Fuck, Jamie,” Tyler says, and Jamie says, “Yes, _God,”_ and he’s naked against Tyler, sucking on his neck, pushing his knees apart, grinding his cock against Tyler’s ass, and Tyler needs—

“Ahhhhh,” Jamie says, a long exhalation as his cock slides into Tyler’s hole, already stretched and slick with the lube and Jordie’s come. Tyler arches at the feeling, at having the fullness back. Jamie’s still frantic as he fucks him, and Tyler loves it: the way his hands and mouth are everywhere, the way he doesn’t hold back as he thrusts inside. He’s peppering Tyler’s face with kisses, and he’s saying things: “Yes” and “God” and “Want you” and “Don’t know what you were doing to me.”

“Yes, Jamie, you, always,” Tyler says, and he runs his hands up Jamie’s chest and tweaks his nipples.

Jamie throws his head back and snaps in extra hard. “Making me crazy—”

“So good,” Tyler whispers, and Jamie looks him in the eyes for a long moment and then ducks down to take his mouth in a kiss while he slams in again.

Tyler’s cock is rubbing against Jamie’s stomach now, and he feels overwhelmed in the best way. Jamie is turning him inside out and he doesn’t care because it feels _good._ They’re both fighting for air and for friction and for as much as possible now, panting around each other’s tongues and moving their hips as fast as they can. Tyler can feel the edge approaching—the edge he’s been on for a while now, the one Jordie took him to, and God, Jamie’s been there forever, hard since he sat down on the couch, that gorgeous cock that’s now reaming Tyler in the ass. “Come on, come on, Jamie,” he finds himself whispering, and Jamie whines, deep in his throat, and bites down on Tyler’s shoulder and comes.

Tyler clenches down hard as soon as he does, around the spurting cock in his ass, and he’s gone, too, coming so hard he can barely breathe. Pleasure is pulsing through him, just like Jamie’s come is pulsing inside of him, and oh fuck he’s never felt this good in his _life._

Jamie collapses on him afterward, and maybe it should be too much, but it’s not. It’s—exactly what Tyler needs. To be anchored to the couch, while their breathing calms down and Jamie mouths against the side of his neck.

“Was I good, Jordie,” Jamie says sleepily after a few minutes, and Jordie says, “You were _so_ good, baby,” because he’s there, of course, he’s right next to the couch, even though Tyler didn’t notice anything but Jamie fucking him during that last bit. But Jordie’s there. Jordie’s got them.

Jamie raises his head, and Jordie kisses him, slow and deep. Tyler watches their lips move against each other and feels warm, way down deep in his belly.

Jordie breaks the kiss. “You wanna clean him up?” he asks, and Jamie nods, pink brushing the tops of his cheeks again.

Tyler’s not sure exactly what he means, but Jamie’s sliding off of him now, onto the floor by Tyler’s legs, and then he lifts Tyler’s legs and—

“Oh,” Tyler says, high and surprised, as Jamie’s tongue licks at his hole. It’s stretched and used and sensitive, but Jamie’s tongue is gentle. It moves in tiny little sweeps.

Jordie takes Tyler’s hand. “He’s eating both of us out of you,” he whispers into Tyler’s ear, and Tyler shivers, from his scalp down to the tips of his toes. Jamie’s making little happy sounds while he eats him out, and if it were at all possible for Tyler to get hard again, he’d be doing it.

Jordie’s hand smooths over his stomach. “You were good, too,” he says.

Tyler lets his eyes drift closed and savors the trembly feeling of Jamie’s mouth lapping at him. “Thank you,” he says, and he means for the praise and for this whole thing and for being who he is, for being what Tyler and Jamie need.

Jordie puts his other hand on Jamie’s back. “You guys want to come to bed?”

“Mm,” Tyler says. He has no idea what time it is, but there’s no way he’ll be good for anything until he gets a few hours’ sleep. Not with the way his muscles have gone lax and he’s having trouble keeping his eyes open.

His head is in a fog as Jordie gets him and Jamie up. They all stumble towards the bedroom—the master, the only one they really use now. Jordie comes back with a washcloth to wipe them down and makes them both drink a glass of water. Then they arrange themselves on the bed, cuddled in a pile with Tyler in the middle and Jordie behind him and his face in Jamie’s chest.

Yeah. This is good. It’s so, so good.


End file.
